Generation Breakers: Intermission
by Sinead Rivka
Summary: .:Movieverse:. .:Story Three:. So far, so good. Raevyn's almost completely finished learning from Ratchet from what he has to offer, and she and Sam are getting closer, just as she and Jazz continue to share that strange friendship between them. Semifluff
1. Chapter One

Generation Breakers: Intermission  
By Sinead

Chapter One  
Relevant Song: Bill Whelan "The Harvest"

.o.O.o.

Raevyn awoke to the sounds of a heated argument. And it wasn't just any kind of heated argument, either. It was her father's voice when he was inches away from throwing a punch.

Not bothering to waste her time changing into day clothes, she ran out of her bedroom, out the door, and down the outside stairs of her home, turning left around the back of the house to see her father in his beaten and torn jeans, bare feet, and a white undershirt. His stubble wasn't as carefully groomed as it usually was, and the whole picture of him meant that whoever it was that he was about ready to threaten to dismember had woken him up.

Leukyn was _not_ a morning person.

Looking past the man in a suit, not even bothering to give him any of her attention at the moment, she focused upon her garage and at the Solstice sitting half-in and half-out of it. She could see the mirror mounted upon his windshield, and from time to time, it trembled with unheard snarls or growls of anger. The Autobot was as furious as her father, but was obviously the larger threat of the two.

Even if this suited idiot had no idea of Jazz's existence.

The Agent looked at the young woman walking up to them and spoke to her as he pulled a badge out, flashing it with a flourish that only fresh blood did. "You are no longer employed with the U.S. government, Miss Starwalker. You have since forfeit the terms of your employment."

Oh, like hell. Raevyn's voice was level and smooth as she replied to the man. "I have read very clearly and slowly the documents I signed over a year and a half ago. And I have adhered to those terms and conditions firmly, unless it was imperative that there be other actions taken. The permission to do so was within the final clause, stating 'If the NBE in whom the signer of this contract is partnered with decides upon his own volition to cause his or her partner to disregard the above contract, amnesty and an innocent charge will be given to the signer.' Tell me that I'm not quoting that perfectly. I beg of you."

"You signed a subsequent contract that stated that you would do your best to dissuade one of them if they forced you into disobeying your direct orders from the senior officers--"

"First off," Raevyn snarled, taking a step closer, "I am not enlisted in any military. Second off, I would like to see you argue with the Autobots. Third." And here she paused, holding her hand out imperiously. "Show me this contract."

"There is no such paper signed," Jazz growled, slowly rolling free of his garage before pausing to transform faster than Raevyn had ever seen him do so before. He stalked closer, his movements deliberate and calculated. Upon seeing that manner demonstrated in Jazz, a chill ran down the young woman's back. Was this the same fun-loving Autobot that had teased her only last night about how far she had (and had _not_) gone with Sam? He moved like some sort of predator, on the hunt for his prey. His voice held none of the lazy accents that he used when around the rest of their mixed group of friends and comrades. "I have been with Raevyn at _every_ government function that she has been called to. There has been no signings of papers since the first contract, in which it is _clearly stated_ that in public, _not private,_ relations with humans, we will do our best to behave in the interest of your species. _Privately_, however, we can do whatever the slag we want to."

He was, by now, looming over the unfortunate agent, who was visibly shaking. "I will warn you that if you try to prohibit her access to us, if she _wants_ to be around myself and my companions, then you will be sorely shocked to find that I will _personally_ thwart your every attempt of that action." Leaning in over the man, Jazz's bass voice deepened to what had to be close to his original range. "Raevyn is _mine_, my partner, and if it came down to it, it is between her and I whether our partnership would be dissolved or not. _Not_ your young government."

Nodding twice, slowly, quite shaken in actually meeting an Autobot for the first time, the young and self-righteous agent actually jumped when a massive black truck roared down into the driveway. An almost-late-twenties man in uniform stepped out of the driver's side of the cab and walking around the hood, not bothering to turn the engine off or closing the door.

But the growl of an engine was only the beginning of sounds that were made as the GMC _transformed_. Ironhide had gotten a summary of what had been happening before even getting here, and as soon as Lennox had cleared the front of his hood, the metal frame split, shifting and moving rapidly so that a twenty-two-foot tall robot was now where a black GMC pickup once sat idling. Captain Lennox wasn't even fazed by the transformations anymore. Ironhide's smooth, military-style voice sounded weary of something, and intolerant of another. One could only assume that he was not the fan of the local government's way of handling things.

"You, son, are putting a bad face upon a good group of agents," the Autobot said, reaching a hand out to pull Jazz up straight. He spoke upon an Autobot frequency to the lieutenant. _"Do not let him get to you. He's young and stupid."_

_"Easy for an old man like you to say . . . I'm still young and stupid in comparison to your old years."_

_"Don't taunt me because he's being an annoyance."_

William Lennox walked right up so that he was nose-to-nose with the late-twenties agent before speaking. His voice was low and one could interpret it as menacing, while others could make it out to be merely iron-stern. "You will state your purposes in visiting this residence at once. Do not leave out any information, and do not tell me that you are 'unable to say.' Are we clear."

"I out-rank--"

"Wrong way to start. I have special privileges dispensed to me by way of the Secretary of Defense. Now try again; who sent you and why." Lennox was still in this slightly-older man's face, his own face at twenty-six as if it were chiseled from granite.

The whole story came tumbling out soon after, shortly after he insinuated that there was something odd going on between the Autobots and their humans, during which subsequent outbreak had caused Ironhide to pick Jazz up and keep him immobilized, as well as Raevyn getting between her father and the agent, hugging his waist to keep him from pulverizing the man as he paled in the sight of how strong the old weapons specialist really was.

What it boiled down to? Misinformation, caused by the fact that both Raevyn and Mikaela were dark-haired, brownish-eyed mechanics.

.o.O.o.

Another week later, after supervising the construction of the new base that was almost to the point of completion, Raevyn was back in California, standing upon Ratchet's legs to reach into his lower abdomen, carefully cleaning out the area around his fluid pumps, having a conversation with him while doing so. "So you see how it works?"

"The oddity of your human passions still confuses me. With Transformers, we have simple answers. Do we desire another? The answer is either yes or no. The reasons why we would wish to spend time with one is weighed against the wishes not to spend that time, what you would call a calculation, giving us a firm answer in the affirmative or the negative. Never a maybe." Ratchet sighed, and shook his head, feeling where she put her hands, and approving of the handholds. Bumblebee was assisting her today, holding the clean cloths and the cleaning solvents. A blackened cloth rocketed out of the hole Ratchet had opened in his armor, accompanied by Raevyn's just-as-black hand reaching out for another cloth, Bumblebee having readied one to place into her palm.

"We're not mechanical beings, Ratch," came the explanation. "And it's not easy for us to logic out anything of that kind of sort. There _is_ no logic to our emotions, unlike your kinds'."

"I agree with that." The medic replied. The conversation moved on. "So how are you and Sam doing together?"

"Well," came the cautious reply. "Why d'you want to know?"

"Because he's off with Jazz, and you and Bumblebee are here. I'm assuming that he's asking questions of your partner about you."

"So'm I. Bumbles? You have any insight to offer on that matter?" Raevyn pulled out to breathe in the slightly-cooler air than what was circulating within Ratchet. He was being patient with her, knowing that while she could move her hands faster, she still wanted to make sure she was doing the right thing and was cleaning the right way. Small sounds of approval came from him at strategic moments, disguised within a sentence or even within the sounds of his own movements.

Thinking upon what she was asking of him, the bot just shrugged, his door-wings at the "relaxed" position. "Perhaps likes and dislikes? All I know for certain is that he wishes to not mess this up. It is a fear of his, Raevyn."

"I know. The fear that he's not good enough in bed is a horrible thing for a man to feel." Moving back inside, she wiped up the last of the buildup of lubricants and grease, tossing the final cloth out. "Okay, Bumbles, that tube there, please."

Sam walked into the hangar just as she accepted the mechanical lubricant, paused, then stated, "That just looks plain _wrong_."

"Face it, I'm a kinky chick," Raevyn said with a laugh, shrugging and diving back into Ratchet's torso. Her voice was low. "Think he heard us?"

The medic considered this. "No. Do you know how to rid him of his fear?"

". . . you're mean."

"No, seriously. Do you?"

"Oh _glory_. Bumblebee!" she called out. "Ratchet doesn't get it!"

The joy-filled laugh of the Camaro filled the hangar, seeping out into the yard beyond. It was a good laugh, and heralded in brighter days.


	2. Chapter Two

Generation Breakers: Intermission  
By Sinead

Chapter Two  
Relevant Song: "Boombox's Theme" by Tony Bacala from tfw2005

.o.O.o.

Within another five months, there had been an odd shock to Raevyn.

The garage as finished; the underground living quarters for the Transformers along with a full medical bay were the only things that needed to be finished off, but that would take a Transformer with a vision for such matters to finish. Aboveground, almost twenty feet to the rear of the garage, was the main house for the humans, built with all the newest technical innovations and stocked with imperishable food and all the equipment and supplies that someone who had doubtless had been swept up by the Autobots would have forgotten in their rush to be around their newfound family.

Between the two buildings was a brick patio, a decently new but obviously used grill sitting upon it, waiting to be used. On the lawn between the buildings was a firepit, along with a table with chairs inside a mosquito-net tent that would also provide shade during the hot and humid summer days. There were plans for an in-ground pool to be provided and installed behind the house if the residents wished for one. Hell, they even had second-hand _cars_ that had been donated to be sold just to get the business up onto its feet. Despite the original reluctance to get this project even _started_, the government sure provided everything that could possibly be needed to make people comfortable.

Raevyn was taking one last walkthrough of the compound before declaring it finished and ready to begin operation, as it were. She was noting places that needed a touch more attention, and she was going to have those places given the attention they needed, slowly closing in upon her destination: the medical ward. Ratchet had come over from California to check that they had built it as he had wanted it, needing specifications to the exact measurements he had given. It needed to look like a medbay on one of the shuttles, and needed to have that feeling of Cybertronian design to it. The reason behind that was so that the injured bots would relax in that feeling of "home" that it would give them.

But as the human walked through the open medical ward door, she saw Ratchet bent over a holographic computer display, poking the energy-charged air with quick fingers, then looking at a readout of some sort upon a screen. His face was pensive, and he was . . . talking to himself?

"It will be not too much longer before construction can begin. . . . No, no hassles yet, but the question of material may be a problem. . . . Yes, I'm sure I know what I'm doing, and you have _seen_ me do this before! . . . Don't you start to question me!" Turning to press his finger against a button, effectively turning off the holographic screen, Ratchet saw Raevyn standing and watching him curiously. Sighing he murmured, "Of course she would see . . ."

"Who are you talking to?" There was always a high-pitched hum when Ratchet was using his communicator, as he never had really gotten around to fixing it after some odd injury before the Autobots had come to Earth. It was something she swore to fix on him, even if he protested that it was working fine. That pitch wasn't present in the room.

He couldn't lie. This was something that he had known she would have to learn about at some point, and it was definitely useful information to have sitting around in one's head. "His name is Prowl. He was, and is, one of the greatest interpersonal strategic minds of my race at this time. Optimus chose him to lead one of the subgroups, but before they could escape . . ." Pausing, shaking his head, Ratchet continued in a more subdued tone. "Decepticons attacked, and Prowl lost his body. I couldn't save him, not both body and Spark . . ."

Raevyn reached up with one hand, wordlessly asking to come up onto his shoulder. It was a small signal that was common between humans and Sparklings. When a Spark is created, they reside within a parent body for a short time, finishing their development. The parent Spark is within sensing distance, becoming a comfort for the Sparkling, a constant as they began their life. Often times when scared or uncomfortable or even just wanting to be comforted, the little one would end up going to the parent that their Spark had begun to know during their formative period, reaching up, or across, depending upon their size, with one or both hands. The result was the parent usually pulling them close, no matter what they were working on or what was happening around them. A child was a responsibility to be treasured.

Children were not as common for Transformers before . . . they were nonexistent now. The energy it takes for a Spark to be created from two parent Sparks was usually the same amount of energy that it takes to be on constant battle-watch. The other reason why none wished to try to begin repopulation was that war was no place for a child to be raised. Some had wanted to have a Sparkling so that if a parent died, there would still be a physical link there, a reminder that there was a deep love between them. Optimus and his officers had convened upon that matter, and had come to the conclusion that if there _was_ going to be Sparklings, they would have to wait until the final battle to be created. They could choose who they wanted to pair with, and they damn well could be as affectionate as they wanted, but children did not belong in a war, where they could be hurt, or worse, _killed_.

It was that final word that had put an end to requests. There was no greater sadness than a life ended just when it began.

Remembering all this in the time it took to carefully scoop Raevyn up and set her upon his shoulder, Ratchet heard the echoes of Prowl's voice grumbling that wartime was over, and as soon as he got his body, there would be both hell to pay for sulking and a Sparkling to be born, bringing up old promises and memories.

Ratchet knew the pain of a child taken from him too quickly.

He knew the worse pain of his Bondmate taken in a battle two days prior to losing his no-longer-Sparkling, an almost completely mature and honorable young mech, causing the loss of his family to ache twice as badly.

Prowl had comforted him in that time, allotting him weeks where the medic didn't have to deal with people that he knew Ratchet would have snapped at. He gave the difficult ones to other medics who, while not as gifted as the Chief Medical Officer, were able to deal with the personalities. However, when one of the twins had himself hurt again, he had very respectfully gone up to Ratchet, not bothering to ask anyone if the grouchy bot was available, just seeing if it were possible to be repaired. He had specifically ignored the glares and soft warnings of the other Autobots he had passed in order to come to stand before Ratchet, reaching out marginally as a Sparkling so often does. He was just old enough that it was a gesture of his past, but used tenderly towards the one in whom he trusted implicitly as an elder. No words were spoken, no caustic remarks were made . . . only a repair done, and a quick, thankful embrace given, which had done more healing to the old medic than any words could have ever done.

His words were slow. "I dare to think that you are sometimes more of my own charge than you are Jazz's."

Moving thoughtfully, slowly, Raevyn began to shift from where he had placed her upon his shoulder. "I know. It feels like it to me, too, sometimes." She placed her hand upon his chest, close to the location of his Spark, even though he knew that she didn't know where he had personally chosen to hide his lifeforce. Medics had that option, so that they could be better preserved in battle in case they were targeted. Looking up at Ratchet's face, Raevyn smiled slightly. "So Prowl knows me?"

"Yes. And he is impressed by how fast you have picked up our anatomy and how to repair us. Not to mention that he's amazed upon how you handle Jazz, and how quickly you manage to understand our different moods and feelings." Touching her head gently, reassuringly, he added, "I'm proud that you've come so far in such a short time."

"I've had you to teach me, and I have the feeling that I'm not done learning."  
"Very wise observation." Tilting his head to one side, the old medic made a small noise that equated to a half-chuckle. "Well, since you have no scanners, I shall self-diagnose my problem."

"You're letting me in to fix you, not just to clean?"

"I am confident in your skills. Are you?"

"Shutting up. What's the problem?" Raevyn sat upon his shoulder, knowing that their optics could focus upon her face at any range, unlike humans, where if you put something small upon their shoulder, they would have to stretch their head away in order to focus upon it.

"A frayed wire, nothing more. But it is in an area that I cannot reach, and do not trust untrained hands to reach towards."

Popping her knuckles, Raevyn jerked her chin upwards in an acceptance of the challenge. "All right, then, open up so that I can get at it." Twisting, Raevyn hung onto his chest as the large Autobot sat, giving her a perch upon his leg. Once he opened the armor plating and moved his arm to rest upon the back of the metal chair that he had constructed himself, she leaned into his chest compartment from his left-hand side, aided by his free hand so that she wouldn't have to worry about balancing while she was fixing him. Seeing the bundle of wires, she followed each one from origin to destination, making sure that there were no breaks in any of the casings. Halfway though that precautionary procedure, she found the frayed one, grasping it carefully to keep the bare metal from touching her skin. Seeing how it was just starting to fray, but didn't look like it was much of a threat in the overall scheme of things, she understood why Ratchet wanted to get at it before it got any worse. "What's this do?"

"Thought-to-action translator for my right foot."

"Wearing it down while kicking Ironhide for being such a stick-in-the-mud old man?"

"_Practicing_ my kicks upon him, mind you. I'm reserving the true punishment for the twins."

She knew that he missed their antics, no matter how many times he said that he loathed them. They were once a constant something-to-do, even though Finishing her inspection, Raevyn pulled out her wirecutters, asking, "You're good if I cut this now?"

"Yes."

Doing so, then cleaning up the wires and re-twisting them, she asked, "So these twins seem to be the real pain in the arse."

"They're non-leadership Spark-twins." He answered as if that would explain everything."Uh . . . don't get it. Why's that such a big deal?"

"Twice the amount of energy, seeing as it's technically one Spark in two bodies with two personalities, and with only limited areas to pour that energy into. So they have a problem with authority telling them that they can't get themselves into trouble."

"But wouldn't one be responsible to the other's irresponsibility?"

"Not as Sparklings."

"Oh. So what are they now?"

"In human terms? In their thirties. They, like Jazz, were born between recognized generations."

"So they must also have loved to annoy Prowl."

"Indeed. Jazz and the twins eventually found each other, compared ages, and decided to become partners in crime while they were youngsters. They grew up together, as it were, and had happened upon trouble together. Prowl's job was never an enviable one to begin with, and it was made so much more undesirable by the antics of the terrible trio."

"Remarkable!"

"What, that Jazz is a terror? You know this already."

"No . . . this wire . . . All I had to do was stop it, and then I was placing the two ends together so that I could reconnect them, but . . . it did it on its own, and now its crowing the casing again." Raevyn rested her hand upon a smooth, metal casing on her left to lever herself up a touch.

But Ratchet jerked, then pulled her out, causing her head to hit his armor mildly on the way out, eliciting a stream of confused curses. Ratchet's voice was low and angry. "No."

"No?" Cursing again and rubbing at her head, Raevyn asked, "_What_ is your _problem_?"

"_That_ is my Spark chamber. I did _not_ give you permission to touch it." The fierce look was not lost upon Raevyn.

Instead, what it did was make her jaw drop and cause a blush to color her cheeks a deep crimson. "God, Ratchet! Why didn't you tell me where it was?! Augh! Of all my stupid mistakes, _this_ one takes it all! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean . . ."

Visibly trying to calm himself, trying to persuade his own reaction and instincts to settle down, Ratchet sighed. "It was a shock to me. I am sorry for hurting you, youngling."

"It . . . it'll only be a bump," Raevyn whispered, knowing that she had just crossed a huge taboo line without even realizing it. She felt _horrible_. "I – I can go—"

"No, Raevyn, I'd prefer you to stay." Ratchet closed his armor up, knowing that she had done exactly all that she had needed to do. And she looked as if she would hide from him for a week if he let her go now. "I have something else to tell you. Another lesson, however, this was one that I was not going to teach you for a long while to come."

"Which is?" she asked carefully.

"How to tell if a Transformer is harboring a secondary Spark chamber."

"The one used for holding a Sparkling?"

"The very same. As well as what to do with a few situations with those particular bots."

Her smile returned. "Cool. I'm ready."


	3. Chapter Three

Generation Breakers: Intermission  
By Sinead

Chapter Three  
Relevant Song: "Remembrance" by Delerium

.o.O.o.

_**Author's Note:** Sorry that this story so far has all been fluff. There was supposed to be a lot more to it, but there was this simple thing called "not really sticking to the story title." This was an intermission . . . before some of the real fun begins. Thank you so much for all your patience, the fluff is over, some great family angst is about to begin, and hold onto your seats, because once I type it in, you're in for a ride! ... Which also means . . . wait about a week before the first chapter of the fourth story goes up. Sorry! runs!  
_

.o.O.o.

Her head actually spinning and reeling from the information given to her, Raevyn went to where Jazz now called his home until the second wave of their comrades came to Earth. Ratchet was on his was out to California, leaving them alone to talk. The smallest Autobot was laying on his back, hands behind his head as he hummed an old tune, harmonizing with himself in what passed for the chorus, then falling back to the melody for the verse. He only increased the volume very slightly as Raevyn climbed up first onto the "bed," then onto his torso, curling up partially so that she could fit against his metal body in a way that was comfortable for her. A metal hand rested over her side, and the song shifted to a human croon, perfectly in range for Raevyn to sing a harmony to.

The first time Jazz's human had sung with him, he had been shocked into actually stopping mid-phrase before laughing at himself and singing again. Raevyn hadn't missed a word, giving him a chance to catch up. Her speaking voice was pleasant but gave the Autobots no indication that she could actually sing.

To Jazz, it was the best surprise that anyone could have ever given him.

"'Sa matter, babe?"

"Just . . . thinking."

"Ratchet gummin' ya head-gears or sumthin'?"

"Yeah."

"Can I help straighten his words out?" The Autobot moved his head to look directly at the human, his face showing his concern that he was feeding her too much information too quickly. But Jazz did indeed know that Raevyn grasped at everything that she possibly could, wanting to know so much more all the time . . . It was impossible for her to not ask questions.

She didn't look back for a moment, but when she did, her face looked like that of a lost little girl's. "I'm just getting to know a lot more about your kind and your everyday culture than anyone else . . . and some concepts are hard for me to think about."

"So don't think about them right now. Drag out your bed and sleep. You had nightmares last night, and I want you close tonight so that I don't have to reach in through your window all night long. My servos almost jammed." Despite the words, the tone was light, and there was an undercurrent of a deep caring for her well-being.

Heeding his advice, Raevyn slid down to the floor, grabbing the futon mattress, pillow, and comforter from where it lay stored under Jazz's own bed. There was a set of these materials in each room in case other Autobots ended up with a friendship as strong as Bumblebee and Sam did, or as Jazz and Raevyn shared. Before she could drag any of it up to join him, the small Autobot picked her up, blankets and all, to place upon his torso again. As she straightened the bedding out upon the silver armor, Jazz began humming an old Cybertronian tune, the lower notes eluding human hearing, but could still be felt rumbling through his frame. As always, Raevyn fell asleep within moments of resting her head upon her pillow, listening to his Spark pulsing.

Ratchet opened the door.

Tilting his helm back to look at the medic, Jazz's voice was soft, barely heard over the sweet sounds of an alien singer humming traditional songs. "I thought you left."

"I did. And I went to the beach, then came back."

"What'd you say to her? She could barely talk, she was processing information so hard."

Sighing, Ratchet walked to the head of Jazz's recharge berth and leaned against the wall, outlining the events. Before he got too far, the lieutenant had to switch to a private frequency so that he could bray his laughter freely. This was rich! Ratchet had done something that he had never been forced to do before in his entire career! Said medic was glaring balefully at Jazz for his reaction. "I do not find it so funny, and nor should you."

"You . . . Primus! You gave her the full Talk, not just the anatomy lesson!"

"It was needed to explain everything in order for Raevyn to understand the significance of what she could have done," was the answering grumble, but Jazz was still too busy laughing to acknowledge it. "Pit-born waste of breath and time! Stop laughing before your air-intakes overload!"

Calming down enough to speak normally in their native tongue, Jazz smiled down at the human sleeping directly over his Spark. He felt her heartbeat through his fingertips that rested lightly upon her back. Now was one of those times where he wished she could have been born his kind, and that the pulse beneath his metal fingers was not of a heart, but of a Spark. "You have more guts than I thought! So . . . now she knows everything about us."

"Yes. The rest of the knowledge is gained through experience. I only hope that her children have as much aptitude for learning and mechanical skills as she does. Hers is a family I wish to guard and train." Ratchet's voice was quiet, contemplative as he spoke to Jazz. He had a lot of time to think over this action of asking formal permission to take over the guardianship of this young woman from Jazz. He spoke carefully, slow and respectfully. "I will keep her from physical harm. I will teach her all that I know. She will be safe from our enemies, yours and mine. I will treat her as my own family, daughter or sister, and she will be free to choose which role she wishes to be." He paused, unused to asking something instead of just doing it. "Would you allow me to become her guardian?"

Jazz stared up at Ratchet steadily. The crotchety medic was the best Autobot he knew when it meant keeping someone safe from all harm. After a moment, he dealt away with all formality, bluntly asking, "If you become her guardian, where will that leave me?"

"You, my old friend, are guardian of the most precious part of her." Ratchet's voice was low, even through the private communications link between them. "You guard her very soul."

"Then you may guard her as family."

.o.O.o.

Jazz awoke in the now-familiar garage of Raevyn's home, looking down to see the also-now-familiar sight of seeing a bundle of two futon mattresses and many blankets and comforters resting upon his crossed legs. A puff of steam exited near one end, a curled-up lump rising and falling regularly in time with the puff of steam. Smiling, Jazz rested his hand over a pane of glass, the heat of his metal melting the frost that lined the windows of the garage door. A bright yellow body was seen, Sam just climbing out of the car's driver's side, shivering in the late-autumn chill.

Outside the garage, the young man looked at a man walking around the side of the house, two steaming mugs in his hands, long graying hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. He blinked, then asked, "You like coffee?"

"Y-yeah," Sam replied, unsure of what to say or do around this strange man. Who was he?

"Awright, here, boy." He handed one mug to Sam, carrying the other into the garage through the side door, re-emerging to say, "Park y'self there, an' I'll be right out."

Confused, Sam leaned against the warm hood of his friend, his voice low. "He's odd."

Wisely not replying, Bumblebee just chuckled and resumed trading information with Jazz about the last four weeks, along with the mentions of the second wave that had landed in California and who they were and how they were adjusting. Before too long, however, the strange man walked back out, moving quickly despite his full mug of coffee to give one tire a good swift kick.

"Hey!" Sam yelped, jumping back, but any further protestations were drowned out by Leukyn's powerful voice. "Bumblebee, you God-awful scrap-metal ridiculous moron! Where th' 'ell've ya been?!"

Sam's jaw dropped. It dropped further when Bumblebee replied, "Keeping the kid safe, and trying to keep him sane, now that Raevyn's out here."

"Good man! How's the engine?"

Bumblebee popped his hood in response, chuckling. Sipping at his coffee, the older man leaned in and made a few noises, then a snort. "Ya ain't keepin' yaself kept up! After all th' work that Raevyn's put inta you?!"

Blowing his horn and jerking back to slam his hood shut, Bumblebee glowered as he growled back, "I—"

"Bumblebee, shush! Raevyn's still asleep!"

". . . slag."

Jazz's bass growl echoed through the garage door, and for a moment, Bumblebee heard a few beats of his friend's Spark. The Camaro slipped forward, trying to catch the sound again. He heard Jazz trilling and clicking low reassurances for a moment, as well as a sleepy murmur from Raevyn. He didn't hear the sound of the lifeforce again, but masked his inching forward to pop his hood again. "Leukyn?"

"You'll owe me."

"I know."

"A'ight . . . Sam, I heard that you're gettin' t' know y'r way 'round an engine . . ." Grinning, Leukyn propped the yellow hood up with a smile, motioning for the younger man to begin his work. "Just tell me what needs doin', an' we'll give Raevyn a break from cleanin' s' that she can work on Jazz a bit more. He done pulled somethin' in his shoulder showin' off."

Sam wondered who it was that had Jazz showing off for, but put it out of his mind as he sipped at his coffee, looking into Bumblebee's engine. How odd was it that his own "car" never opened up for him like this, and then around a man that was supposedly Raevyn's father? He never saw the condition of the engine unless Raevyn was working on it. That was the same for the other Autobots.

How odd.


End file.
